The Banality of Evil

I haven't been sleeping well lately. Part of it is because I've been eating like crap. Part of it is because the cat's been getting up at 3:30 every morning for the past three weeks to go on a psychotic rampage for a solid hour or more. Part of it is because I just got metaphorically sucker punched by yet another guy who didn't think I was worth his effort. Part of it is because I've been super stressed at work. But a lot of it is because I'm appalled at the world's complacency (my own included) in the face of unfathomable hatred.

Let me explain. 

Early Sunday morning, a man walked into a popular gay nightclub in Orlando with an assault rifle and gunned down 49 innocent people. Two-and-a-half weeks earlier, a man spewing bigotry and intolerance clinched the Republican Presidential nomination. Are the two events related? Not on the surface. But a common thread ties them together: hate. 

As the nation copes with the worst terror attack since 9/11 - a hate crime carried out against the LGBT community - someone is preparing to actually print ballots that give us the option of putting a man who advocates for war crimes and ethnic cleansing in the nation's highest office. I keep asking myself the same question: "Is this real life?" 

As the current President addressed the nation after the Orlando shooting, I barely heard a word he said. All I could hear was how defeated he sounded. Likely feeling the same as many of us - that if past mass shootings haven't prompted change, this one won't either. That this won't be the last tragedy at the end of the barrel of an assault rifle. That apparently the right of a well-funded group of trigger-happy nutjobs to bear arms trumps my right...my family's right...my friends' and neighbors' and fellow humans' right...to life. I take your Second Amendment and raise you one Declaration of Independence. You know - the document that actually established the nation where you have the freedom to be an ignorant, fear-mongering fuck.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are LIFE, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

(As this post is not intended to wax philosophical about the merits of gun control, I will just leave that there and save the rest for another time.)

Just hours after the attack in Orlando, a Sacramento pastor stood behind his pulpit and told his congregation that it was a shame more people weren't killed (among several other abhorrent postulations). This man spewed his hateful rhetoric from a pulpit just a few miles from my home. In my community. In my city. My city where most people were rightfully disgusted. Where those people shared the video of his hateful speech in a post about their disgust. Where the media then broadcast his hateful sound bytes to tens of thousands of people who never would have heard them otherwise.

Now, I believe in Free Speech as much as anyone, probably more than some people. And as a former member of the media, I know how that battle between your moral compass and your journalistic "duty" to be objective can absolutely shred you inside. But at what point does the media sit down at a higher level and decide that maybe sharing hate speech isn't in its audience's best interest? That maybe saying, "You know what? This guy said some really hateful things today and we're just not comfortable broadcasting them, but you need to know so here's a summary" would probably earn more respect from your viewers than you think.

Here's how I see it. Imagine this: it's 1938, you're a 2016-era journalist and Adolph Hitler is alive, well and spewing antisemitism all over Germany. Knowing everything you do now about what the man is capable of/about to do (yep, talking about the Holocaust), do you put him on TV? On the radio? Do you mic him up? Do you drive people to the web to read the full transcript of his latest Gestapo pep-talk? Do you give out your personal information to obtain a media credential to the Fuhrer's next event at a concentration camp? Yes, people need to know he's evil. But there's a way to do it without giving him a public pulpit. Same goes for the pastor. And Trump.

"But where do you draw the line?" you ask. I wish I knew. The moral compass won my internal battle - a big reason I don't work in a newsroom anymore. That is not to say everyone who works in the media doesn't have one. I have a great deal of respect for the journalists who struggle every day to find that balance between being objective and being what their viewers actually need. I just wish the folks at the corporate/network level would reach a consensus that perhaps, at this moment in history, what the nation needs is another Edward R. Murrow, not another William Randolph Hearst.

The Boston Marathon. Paris. Sandy Hook. San Bernardino. Charleston. Terror attacks and mass shootings have become practically commonplace in recent years. Each time, you think it can't get worse. And then it does. And your heart breaks a little bit more. And you swear you'll take a stand this time. So you change your Facebook photo in solidarity with whatever city or already-marginalized group of people was attacked this time for a week or two. And then you change it back. And nothing actually ever changes. At least that's how it works for me.

For me, my complacency stems from a deep fear of conflict. I don't like to argue. I hate to debate. I don't ever want to be "the bad guy." I've always intentionally avoided talking or posting about politics or social issues or basically anything controversial because it's easier to quietly float under the radar than it is to defend an unpopular opinion. I try not to attract attention because it makes me uncomfortable.

But now, more than ever, that makes me feel guilty. My complacency is a luxury. I'm a privileged white woman. I've never truly known what it is to be marginalized. To be targeted. I can empathize, but I've never had to actually defend myself against hate. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't be standing up for others. Staying silent is just another way of devaluing them.

When I was a kid, I went to Catholic school. In high school, we had to take a Religion course every year. My senior year, I chose a course titled, "The Banality of Evil." Not being Catholic (or particularly religious at all), I didn't know what to expect. We talked at length about genocide and other atrocities and delved into the dark side of humanity. It was strangely fascinating in the way that it really made you think about the world we live in.

Here's what scares me. In 2036, will the students sit in a classroom and discuss what's happening around the world right now? The mass shootings? The terror attacks? The ethnic cleansing and international conflict that will inevitably take place if the 2016 election ends a certain way? If we don't stand up and actually do something soon, they absolutely will.

From here on out, I'm making myself a promise. A promise to stop being complacent. I will share my thoughts openly without hesitation. I will not share hate speech, even in the context of a broader article that condemns it. I will fight for meaningful change on local and legislative levels in whatever way I can. And I won't just stand in solidarity with targeted groups who need an ally - I will act like an ally.

This Sunday, hundreds of people will stand in support of the LGBT community at a peaceful protest outside the Sacramento church where that pastor delivers his small-minded sermons. I've never been to a protest. But I'll be at this one. Because my fear of conflict is no excuse. Because changing my Facebook photo is quite literally the least I can do to support a group to which many people that I care about belong. Because I was raised to believe the worst thing a person can be is selfish. Because Love is Love. And because hate can't win. It just can't. I hope you'll join me.